St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-12-25
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for him, these lines as the song and the
cry of her heart; would sing them as
the song of her lips and her life; that
they should be to them both a holy
| thing until the years and the tide should
| resiStleSsly sweep them again together.
Then long, long embrace; and then:
mi dearie Dubbeleskeyi" Qfor the
| dear Lords sake y from the old grinder,
believing BOb'' Stanley, as the
| startled lovers saw his erst merry, but
now angry, eyes peering through the
| parted branches of the hedge above
| them.
mi dearie Dubbeleskey." believing
| Bob repeated, in horror and dismay.
"Zella, child! Ha We run'd away from
! hus all n got spilled! Dearie, dearie.
racklie!' he continued, as he shook his
bushy head with an expression of I'M
| utterable sorrow; ''gone N got spilled,
n so, so purity"
She sprang from Andrew toward the
good old grinder. She thrust her round
little fist close into his kindly face.
Then she Kissed at him while her
-BOb!-hif We hever tells on me, Hill
HILL kill We, So will! / hasn't for
got I'm ROmany (Gypsy)-nor Romany
woman neitherI Go We back now, Bob;
go We back. Hill be yon afOre ye."
poor, poor Andrewp' she whim-
pered; 'oh, dearie heartl Good-bye"
Then turning, she tossed dainty kiss
from her fingers; she swept along the
meadow under cover of the hedge,
reached the rivers edge, glided along
its bank by the willows with swaying,
bird-like motion; and, before ''bellow-
ing Bob" had recovered from his emo
tons, she was in the midst of the camp
receiving the anxious questions and
greetings showered upon her with de-
mure and wondering eyes.
''Oh, an wat a Mizella!" whispered
kind-hearted Bob, as he few moments
later passed her shaking his shaggy old
head.
In an hour the camp had disbanded.
The last partingS were said. Countless
old shoes and measures of rice had been
cast after the wanderers, for good for
tune in the far-away land. Up to the
highway; down over the old stone
bridge of Ilkley; past the low smithy,
where ''owd Jackie" Birch and his
prentice, Preacher Collyer, had, times
without number. shOd the horses of
these same Gypsies and banded CHEEKY
quips and jokes; up beyond the parish
church, among whose near graves many
a Gypsy chauvie Child was resting, and
then over the Yorkshire hills, and on,
on, to the seaport town, had sped the
departing tribe.
Back in the deserted camp prone upon
the ground, his weak hands clutching
the battered tinker's wheel, lay An
drew.
The throstles sang sweetly Gin the
hedge; the Wharfe, as for aye, flowed
softly onward to the sea; but the broken
life that had been left so utterly desolate
was as one dead to the radiant sweet
ness of that April morning, and could
only moan:
''MiZella, rackliei-oh, Mizellaw
Then the weary tramp began. Weary
load and dreary life!
"Tinkle, tinkle, tinklew
A merry tune this from the tinker's
bell. But who shall know of the heart
ache hid beneath every song that ever
was sung?
"Tinkle, tinkle, tinklep
Over highway and byway; over stile
andme adow; through village and ham
let
"Tinkle, tinkle, tinklep
A sOrry-looing tinker, that indeed.
Move him on, clustering English bob
bie." Spurn him one and all. Heart of